Death is Only the Beginning
by Domina Temporis
Summary: A long time in the future, Dean Winchester is finally ready to say goodbye. And also to say hello to someone he hasn't seen in a very long time. Warning for main character death, also lots of speculation about what may happen in the future.
1. Chapter 1

Dean Winchester had so much experience with death that it had never crossed his mind that this would be the way he died; in a hospital bed at the age of eighty, surrounded by his friends and family, instead of being killed by some unnatural creature or another.

Well, it wasn't so much "friends and family" as it was Sam. Which was fine. Sam was the only family Dean had ever wanted anyway. And even if they weren't inseparable the way they had been as young hunters, Sam had still made the trip out from California the instant he'd heard that Dean had had a heart attack. Now he sat by Dean's bedside, the only constant presence in the midst of the revolving door of hunting acquaintances and friends that kept coming in and out, paying their last respects (as much as Sam refused to admit that's what it was).

And there were many of them. Charlie, now a veritable encyclopedia of hunting lore who everyone learned to depend on for accurate information. Garth, who somehow was still hunting full time, having lasted longer than anyone either Winchester had ever met. Chrissy, who had taken over many of his duties as the years went on. As well as so many others who had only known Dean as home base, the organizer for the vast network of hunters across the country. He'd become almost what Bobby had been in the last few decades, while Sam had taken it upon himself to resurrect the Men (and Women) of Letters, although he'd agreed to let Dean keep the bunker in Lebanon as a training ground for young hunters, many of whom had spent time there training with the now-legendary Dean Winchester. Not that hunting was what it used to be; after the closing of Heaven and Hell it had gone back to the average werewolf, vampire, wendigo cases again.

In fact everyone, young trainees and old friends alike, had come, except for one person, who Dean never spoke about, even to Sam. Whose name Dean still invoked in prayers every night. After everything they'd been through, Castiel had returned to Heaven to put right everything that had gone wrong. He had known full well that he would never be able to return, but felt he had to, and Dean had agreed, no matter how painful. It had been an impossible decision, over forty years ago now. The only reminder Dean had of him was one perfect, snow-white feather, found in the back of the Impala and kept safe from prying eyes, since most young hunters these days didn't believe in angels.

Dean coughed weakly and Sam looked up, sudden fear in his eyes. "You all right?" he asked warily.

"Do I look all right?" Dean asked. He was torn. He wanted Sam to be prepared for this, but at the same time he never wanted his little brother to have to see him like this. To have to live through this again. "I'm dying, Sammy. I knew that when I got here."

"That's all those burgers catching up to you," Sam said with a knowing look, trying to keep his voice light.

Dean laughed, "Yeah, maybe. Hey, who would have seen this coming, though? You and me, here in our seventies?"

"I'm in my seventies," Sam said. "You're eighty." He sighed. "But you're right. I'd say we beat the odds. A peaceful death isn't something that happens for people like us. At least, I never expected it to happen."

Dean thought for a minute, then said, "Sam? When it's time, give me a hunter's funeral."

"Don't talk like that, Dean! You'll pull through this. I mean," and here Sam's voice broke a little, "we've gotten through every other damn thing the universe could throw at us."

Inwardly, Dean knew he wouldn't, that this was it. He could feel himself weakening, and besides he was tired. Tired of losing friends, tired of fighting. He thought about arguing to try to pull Sam into reality, but then thought better of it. He didn't want their last conversation to be an argument. "Just promise me, Sam."

Sam watched his brother's body shake with coughs, wishing there was something he could do, before saying, "OK, Dean. I promise. If it'll make you feel better."

"Thanks, Sammy," Dean said. "Hey, don't let this get to you too much. You of all people know we'll see each other again." That was the only reason he felt he was keeping himself together.

"But what if we don't?" Sam asked. Dean knew he was still worried about his demon blood, that it might keep him out of Heaven. If they made it to Heaven anyway; not a certainty considering some of the things they'd been forced to do over the years. As long as they were together, that was all that mattered.

"We will," Dean said as forcefully as he could, not allowing himself to think of another possibility. "I'll say hi to Ellen and Jo and Bobby for you."

"Thanks," Sam said, as the nurse came in and told him that visiting hours were over.

"See you on the other side, Sammy," Dean said. For some reason, as he and Sam hugged, Dean felt sure that they'd never see each other in this life again, and held on a little longer than usual.

"You sure you'll be OK?" Sam asked, sounding worried.

"Yeah, don't worry about me," Dean said.

"OK," Sam said as he left. "Just don't give up, all right?"

Dean sighed, "You bet, Sam. And take care of yourself. Until I see you again." His tone left no room for argument.

"I will," Sam said, leaving without saying goodbye. They'd never actually said goodbye in all their years of danger and death. They certainly weren't going to start now, especially when it wasn't really goodbye. Still, Dean was a little choked up himself as he lay back, watching Sam go. _It's not forever,_ he kept thinking to himself, _I will see him again._


	2. Chapter 2

Later that night, as Dean woke out of a fitful sleep, he became aware of something. Even at death's door, he had a hunter's instincts and was wide awake in seconds, looking around. "Who's there?" he asked, sure someone was there, someone who wasn't supposed to be. His suspicions were confirmed, but not in the way he expected, when he heard something he'd never thought to hear again: the gentle fluttering of wings.

Sure enough, when he looked to his right, there was the last person he'd ever expected to see. Castiel appeared to Dean exactly as he always had: stuck in his mid-thirties, hair uncombed as if he didn't quite know how to get it to behave, blue eyes slightly bemused and wearing his ever-present trenchcoat

"Cas!' Dean said in shock.

"Hello, Dean," Cas even sounded the same as ever.

"Jeez, Cas, what are you doing here? I never expected to see you again," Dean said, realizing too late that he sounded angry, even though he didn't mean to.

Cas's face fell, "Dean, I'm sorry I couldn't come until now, you know-"

Dean cut him off with a grin, "Don't apologize, are you kidding? I'm thrilled. I missed you."

Cas ducked his head down in embarrassment, but couldn't hide the small half-smile that crossed his face at Dean's words. The gesture and expression were so familiar it made Dean grin even wider. "I requested this job when the time came. And the same for Sam, when the time comes."

"What do you mean, that you're our ride to Heaven?" Dean asked. "Don't get me wrong, that's great, but isn't that a reaper's job?"

"You're a special case," Cas said, looking up in concern as Dean started to cough violently.

"I think you came a little early," Dean said as the coughing subsided.

"I wanted to see you," Cas said, as if it was obvious. "It has been 42 years. That's why I spent so long convincing them to let me do this."

"What did it take to convince them?" Dean asked, curious.

Cas looked at some of the medical equipment, trying to figure out how long he'd have to wait before they could leave. "I said I would tear Heaven open again if they didn't agree to a spot for both you and Sam, and that I would get to bring you there." He looked faintly embarrassed by this.

Dean, however, burst out laughing. "Still the rebel, then. They didn't cure you of that?" A faint note of pride entered his voice.

Cas threw him a confused look. "Heaven's very different now. But, no, they didn't. Apparently you and Sam are extremely corrupting influences." Which made Dean laugh even harder, and Cas smiled mischievously in return and it was as if the years melted away until they were young again (well, in Dean's case anyway).

"So, what do we do, just sit here and wait for me to die?" Dean asked bluntly.

"I don't know. I've never done this before," Cas answered. Changing the subject, he asked, "How is everything?"

"You haven't been paying attention?" Dean asked, sounding hurt. "I prayed to you every night. I told you everything."

"Of course I did, Dean. Isn't that just what you say to someone you haven't seen in a long time?" Cas asked, then went on, "I heard everything. Thank you, by the way, for keeping me informed."

Dean shrugged, "I figured you'd want to know what was going on. Besides, it was like talking to you even if you couldn't answer." He'd gotten used to the idea that there was someone watching out for him; talking to Cas had made that feel real.

"You know I didn't want to make that choice," Cas said, a note of anger entering his voice.

"Relax, Cas, I know you had no choice," Dean said. "Sam was just here. He's really turned the Men-slash-Women of Letters into something big. I'm just glad we both made it this far. He says hi, by the way."

"I'm glad, Dean, that you both did well," Cas said, sounding somewhat sad. Dean thought that in spite of everything, he had probably been very lonely in Heaven all these years since they'd last seen each other. "I'll return the sentiment when it's his turn. Those are the only two times Heaven will open to let me through."

Dean couldn't help being impressed, "Thanks, Cas. That's a pretty big deal."

Cas shook his head, "I couldn't leave you here, not knowing where you'd end up when…" he let the sentence trail off before shaking his head and adding, "Still breaking rules for the Winchesters." Dean knew him too well, though, and knew he would never have considered leaving them alone. Knowing Cas, he'd probably raised hell until they'd granted him this duty.

Suddenly Dean started to cough again and felt dizzy, as if he were falling. He panicked, reaching out for anything he could find and was relieved when he locked eyes with Cas sitting next to him. Dimly, he heard Cas say, "It's time," before he was falling, falling…

…and landed on his feet in the hospital room. Except it was different. He felt young again, and if he could see his own soul, he would have seen that he appeared to be in his early thirties again. He glanced at the bed and saw the body of an old man, his body, laying there peacefully. "It's over?" Dean asked, turning to look at Cas. "That wasn't so-" he forgot what he was saying, because his death had changed Castiel completely. Or maybe it was his perception of Castiel that had changed. Either way, while Cas still appeared mostly the same, there was now light shining around his head, like in medieval paintings of saints. _A halo_, Dean realized, with the sinking realization that his mouth was hanging open in awe. But that was nothing compared to the wings that he'd never been able to see before. They were huge, a white so pure that they shone with their own light, and they had to be at least fifteen feet wide, tip to tip if they were unfurled. Dean was speechless, staring at Cas as if only seeing him for the first time.

"Dean, are you all right?" Cas was looking at him worriedly. "It can be an unusual transition."

"What? No, I'm fine," Dean said, snapping out of it. This was still just _Cas_, who didn't know how to talk to people and liked TV way too much, no matter how majestic he looked. "It's just, I can see why people are always so scared of you guys."

"What? Oh," Cas said, looking over his shoulders, trying to fold up his wings as small as he could. "Dean, it's still me."

Dean spluttered, "I know, Cas, don't hide them. They're…amazing." They were, they were beautiful and somehow Cas seemed right with them, in a way he'd never seemed in his vessel. Otherwordly and powerful, but still just Cas. "You look like you belong on a Michelangelo painting or something."

"Really?" Cas asked, looking pleased. "Death must have opened your senses to things not perceptible to humans. I'm glad you like them. Now, are you ready?" He placed a hand on Dean's shoulder, as he'd done so many times, and Dean looked around before he left Earth for the last time. The only thing he'd miss was Sam, but he too would come in time. Until then, it felt like a beginning instead of an ending.

"Yeah, I'm ready," Dean said, and he and Cas smiled at each other before leaving Earth forever.


End file.
